


Ashes

by LeFay_Strent



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Fire, Gen, Psychiatric Hospitals, a smidge ambigous, roman tries so hard, this one's pretty dark kiddos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeFay_Strent/pseuds/LeFay_Strent
Summary: “Pat,” he said firmly, cupping his face. “What happened? Where’s Virgil?”Patton blinked at him.Then he smiled.





	Ashes

_Ring-a-round the rosie._

           

“Open the damn door! This isn’t funny! What are you doing? Hey!”

           

_A pocket full of posies._

           

“Are you listening to me? For God’s sake, let me out!”

           

_Ashes, ashes._

           

“What’s that smell? Is that gas? Patton?!”

           

_We all fall down._

 

* * *

 “Patton.”

A hand touching his roused the boy from his thoughts.

“Hm?” he said, tearing his gaze away from the window.

Across the white plastic table, his older brother sighed, “You were spacing out again. You know I only have a limited time to visit you.”

Those dark green eyes of his shimmered in a way that had Patton glancing away again out of shame. “Sorry.”

In his defense, Patton had been honestly trying to focus. This struggle was nothing new. It took a lot of effort these days, both for Patton to stay in the present as well as for Roman to keep his patience.

But his brother had the patience of a saint surely. Why else would he come visit a sinner like him?

“It’s okay. Not your fault,” Roman murmured, nodding.

“Kinda is,” he replied wryly. The double meaning of his statement was not lost on Roman, if his silence was anything to go by. Patton wondered what he was thinking about. Probably the past. They were both perpetually stuck there.

Patton glanced back to his brother and noted the way he stared down at his clasped hands. The two of them, despite only being half siblings, looked incredibly alike. The biggest difference showed in their skin tone, Patton’s a creamy peach color and Roman having inherited his tan from his mother’s Latino roots. Patton could pick out the similar features: the way their lips could twist into a smile, the round shape of the cheeks and jaw, the strong slope of their noses. Roman was however quite a few inches taller than him, and had more of an athletic build developed from years of outdoor labor as a landscaper. His eyes, though the same shape, were a dark green thanks to their father. They looked troubled now, shadowed by partially dampened bangs.

 _He must have taken a shower before coming here_ , Patton thought, nearly slipping into his mind once more. Thankfully, Roman intervened again.

“I talked to your therapist,” he admitted, obviously trying to broach a sensitive subject.

Patton let his brown eyes wander, skimming over the few others sitting at tables with family or friends or whoever they had penned down on their visiting lists. “Yeah?” he asked, not surprised.

“Mm-hm… Can you tell me something?”

“I’ll try.”

“Do you not like him?”

Now that was surprising. Never mind why Roman had asked (his thought processes always had been rather like skipping blocks in hop scotch). Patton was more interested in the question itself simply because the thought had never occurred to him. He had his sessions with Dr. Logan Sanders a few times a week and saw him around the halls or the Day Room every now and then. He was always pleasant, always encouraged Patton to speak his mind, and he always had something interesting to say in reply (whether Patton agreed with it or not). Their sessions—especially in the beginning—were a quiet affair, mostly thanks to Patton’s reluctance. Nothing against the man, he just found his tongue to be a dead weight around anyone.

“No, he’s . . . fine,” Patton decided. Then he amended, “Nice.”

“So you like talking to him?”

“Um . . . he’s a little quirky?” Dr. Sanders wasn’t exactly what he expected from a therapist. Not that he’d ever seen a therapist before . . .

“That’s good,” Roman smiled, if only a little sliver of teeth. “He’s hopeful, but you have to work with him, Pat; otherwise he can’t help you.”

Patton shifted, his hands rolling the stretched cuffs of his hoodie between cold digits hidden beneath the table. “I talk to him . . .”

“But he’s suggested other methods and you refused.”

“I didn’t refuse,” he pouted. “I just said no.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“S’not to me.”

“Then why did you say no? Hypnotherapy could be very good for you, if you give it a try.”

“I don’t . . . want to . . .” he trailed off, not knowing how to explain his dilemma.

“Are you worried about losing control of yourself? Because he said you’d be okay the whole time! And he’d be there with you.”

“It’s not just that,” he murmured, though that was a fear to consider.

He remembered how Dr. Sanders had broached the subject. They were talking about the subconscious, mostly pertaining to his dreams and how he can never remember them despite them leaving him restless. Dr. Sanders suggested delving into his mind by using hypnosis in the hopes of unlocking his memory. But . . .

“I don’t want to remember,” Patton whispered, voice trembling.

“Pat . . .” Roman began. Patton knew next he would tell him that he needed to, if he wanted to recover.

Thing is, Patton didn’t deserve to recover.

“No, Roman,” he shook his head in jerky shakes. “No . . . Please.”

Roman didn’t bring it back up for the remainder of the visit.

* * *

Three months ago, Roman returned home to find the house that he shared with his younger brothers up in flames. Outside in the grass sat his teenaged brother numbly watching the structure’s luminous destruction. Around him were a couple of empty gallon gas canisters.

“Patton, what happened?” Roman asked frantically, kneeling beside him. It wasn’t until he grabbed Patton’s arm and shook him out of his daze that he looked at him.

“Ashes . . .” he whispered, but he still seemed in shock.

“ _Pat_ ,” he said firmly, cupping his face. “What happened? Where’s Virgil?”

Patton blinked at him.

Then he smiled.

By the time firefighters put out the flames, there was nothing left but charred remains.

Afterwards, Patton was admitted to Grover State Hospital, a psychiatric hospital and there he remained today.

Even now, he still can’t remember that day he burned a hole into their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me in the comments what you think actually happened. The more crazy and elaborate the explanation the better.


End file.
